A/N: I have no idea what this is. I'm very surprised at its creation... Sorry for mistakes and possible weird style; started this at 4am. To all the people who I owe stories to... I have no explanation as to why this is written and your stories are not... #creativemutiny
Christophe was impressed. One moment the redhead was at his desk, diligently chipping away at his homework assignment, and the next moment-upon Christophe's appearance-he had scaled the side of his wardrobe and was now crouched up there like a ginger cat. Shutting the door behind him, unable to hold back a wide smirk as panicky green eyes darted all over him, drawing lines of disbelief until all the dots were connected to form what must be a very startling image. It was also obvious the boy was about to keel over with exhaustion, hence the overabundance of skittishness. Even as the owl-like green eyes inspected him, Christophe could see lids weighing down.
He blamed Abnormal Psyche. Kyle had given in after Kenny convinced him that it sounded 'So cool, man!'. Kenny, who was studying chemistry at the community college-a decision he made after seeing a Meth lab explode from the slightly incorrect administration of a chemical compound-had somehow guilted him with bullshit about the privilege to take interesting classes, whereas Kenny was stuck in the sciences. At the time Kyle had forgotten that the sciences were exactly what Kenny wanted to be studying, particularly after seeing the power of chemistry firsthand. The only reason the blonde kid was even remotely interested in Abnormal Psyche was because this class would mean Tuesdays were free for Kyle as they would be this quarter for Kenny. Sneaky bastard.
The current section they were studying was the psychopathic tendencies of people who had had a serious break in the familial routine of their early life. Kyle had been deep into an academic account of a Frenchman who by day worked as a suicide counselor, and by night stalked young men or women and scalped them. In his current state, a French ghost with a penchant for shovels was not an ideal surprise guest.
There was something in the redhead's hand, held up defensively after a brief scrabbling of fingers as some sort of makeshift weapon. At first Christophe tensed when Kyle whipped the object towards him and a creaking flash of metal swung towards his face. But then the thing stopped short and with an anticlimactic wilt, the spring-shaped thing flopped back against the wardrobe door.
"What is that, Kyle?" he asked.
Grimacing, Kyle mentally berated himself. Of all the potentially dangerous clutter lurking in his dorm room, it was the damn Slinky he had to grab.
"Is it a sex mechanism?" he inquired further, walking over and playfully plucking at the stretch springs. They bounced happily at his touch and he smiled. "I can't imagine how you use it, but it is amusing."
The rational part of his brain was shoved aside by his irritation with such a blatant misunderstanding. "This," he corrected, "Is a Slinky. A child's toy." He jerked it back up towards himself and awkwardly caught it, blushing as deep black eyes focused on him. "You, uh, bounce it. Maybe down some stairs."
"You can show me if you come down from there."
Hesitating, Kyle shot Christophe a pointed scowl, waiting for the boy to hold up his hands and walk back to the opposite side of the room. Then he carefully turned around and shimmied down the school-issued wardrobe, suddenly thankful that his university hadn't cut corners on the quality of the furniture.
"You're not dead then," he stated, straightening out his clothes as Christophe diplomatically stayed on his side of the room.
Holding out his hands and turning in a circle, Christophe offered a crooked grin.
"And in a good mood." He shuddered. "It still creeps me out when you smile..."
"I'm not the little rage-filled pest you seem so fond of remembering," he chuckled.
"Right," he said sullenly, sitting down primly on the edge of his bed, "Now you're just a pest."
Taking a sarcastically timid step forward, throwing out another dashing grin as Kyle huffed and rolled his eyes, Christophe teased, "At least one person will be happy to see me."
"Well, he's not here right now."
"Ah, then we are alone, mon amour," he growled, lunging onto the bed and throwing his arms around Kyle's thin frame.
Squawking in an unmanly manner, Kyle positively writhed as Christophe pawed at him, murmuring French nothings into his ear, hot breath a gentle minty breeze across his face. Fighting the deeper blush staining his cheeks, Kyle practically yelped when a strong hand moved down his body and cupped his ass.
They both jumped when the door banged open and Stan came into the room. He froze when he realized that Christophe and Kyle lay tangled on the bed, Kyle's face as red as his hair and Christophe grinning like a maniacal imp. Sighing heavily, he dropped his bag and books to the floor and swept off his hat, moving wearily past them to get water out of the mini fridge. As he drank, the tussle on the bed ensued, Kyle's colorful word choice painting a slew of amusing images, including one with Christophe and a warthog in a compromising position. Finally turning back, Stan took pity on his roommate and set his water aside to rescue his friend.
Seeing Stan approach out of the corner of his eye, Christophe grabbed the boy's sleeve and yanked them down, rolling the three of them until Kyle was nestled between the two darker boys. Across the still sputtering redhead, now scarlet with rage, Christophe met Stan's blue eyes. "You know I can't resist him," he purred.
Answering with a smile, Stan calmly covered Kyle's mouth just as the Jew was going to start up again, and leaned in to kiss Christophe. The Frenchman's mouth tasted fresh and Stan moaned quietly, moving his body closer, momentarily forgetting that Kyle was sandwiched between them. He drew a leg over the smaller body, hooking it around Christophe's leg. The brunette pushed closer, undulating against Kyle's side, his mouth devouring Stan's as he deepened the kiss. Caught up in the moment, they grinded against Kyle, gasping and moaning as their erections strained behind constrictive zippers.
"Fuck," Christophe hissed, uttering a cut moan as he thrust against a jutting hipbone. "Stan, it's been far too long."
"Yeah," Stan answered, thrusting back, both humping the warm body as their hands made their way into each other's hair, tangling when their lips met in a passionate kiss that seared the air.
Between them, Kyle had been mortified into silence. He could do nothing but squeak in total horror when he felt twin erections pushing along his side, hot and heavy against him. They clung to each other, and him too by proxy. Though he struggled to move and wriggle towards freedom, their legs came around and locked, knees lifted up his side, hips thrusting hard into him. "Stan," he gasped, "Uh, Christophe?"
"More," Stan moaned, pushing harder, moving his body as his teeth scraped down the side of Christophe's neck. "Christophe, c'mon."
"Oui," he whispered, ultimately clambering onto the redhead to better reach Stan, Kyle feeling like a throw pillow that had got in the way. He bit Stan's lips, ripping at his hair to tilt the boy's head back.
Right next to his face, pinned beneath Christophe's solid weight, Kyle could feel the heat from their kiss. A shockingly hot bolt shot through him as Christophe's tongue grazed his cheek, its goal Stan's throat. Christophe's hips were moving again, grinding down into him, now a rock hard cock forcing his own to awaken as the hard flesh pulsed against him. Green eyes rolled up in his head as Stan gasped, reaching down with a free hand to clumsily rip open his pants and free his weeping dick. Kyle clenched his teeth as Stan's cock pushed, leveled against his hand. He could feel Stan jerking himself as Christophe continued to suck and bite his throat. The Frenchman's cock shoved Kyle down into the sheets and he accidentally let slip a small whimper, sweat beading over his brow. They became more frenzied, undulating and grinding against each other and him. Every now and then Christophe would whisper "Amour", "Fuck" and it would tickle Kyle's ear. Then Stan started to thrust in his enthusiasm, rubbing his dick against Kyle's hand, practically into his palm. Overwhelmed by the heat, mind completely muddled, Kyle blearily registered the precum streaking his skin.
All of a sudden a naked cock touched his stomach where his shirt had ridden up. Kyle gasped, unable to see past Christophe and Stan. But he could feel Christophe's dick against him, huge and thrumming with lust. "Shit," he murmured, eyes starting to glaze as the heat and confusion and the strangeness of shock settled over his brain.
Blue eyes met black fleetingly and Christophe reached down to undo Kyle's pants.
It was too hot. He needed... Kyle tried to form a thought. Needed... to get away. No. That wasn't right. That's not what he needed, not what he wanted.
A hand encircled his cock and Kyle arched up into Christophe, mouth falling open. Lips were at his ear in an instant, bathing his skin in electrifying breaths. Teeth nipped at his neck and strong legs pushed between his own, spreading them.
Stan licked his ear, enjoying the shiver it induced. Carefully pulling Kyle's shirt up, he revealed pert nipples, red and aroused. Christophe wasted no time in attacking them, fingers still dancing over Kyle's erection, eyes staring straight into Stan's face with a look of sex. Pushing his pants down further, Stan moved up to rub his cock alongside Kyle's, moaning at the slickness and the heat. Christophe slid off the redhead and instead reached behind Stan and pushed into him with a finger slicked by precum. After another sly grin, Christophe leaned down and gingerly pressed his mouth to Kyle.
Alarms were going off like crazy. But they were muffled. Two all-nighters, too many energy drinks. Too much heat. Kyle wriggled. Then a cool mouth descended on his own. He felt a tongue push into him and taste him. Forcing his heavy eyes open, Kyle parted his lips, dizzy from the friction against his cock and the talented tongue ravaging his mouth. Christophe's handsome face registered, but the pleasure hushed any protest.
Stan was riding Kyle's thigh, all at once pushing back onto Christophe's fingers and griding down into the redhead's erection. His cock was so hard. He needed it now. Glancing up at Christohpe, he watched the French boy kissing his best friend deeply, muscular body practically humming with pleasure. "Christophe," he said imploringly. "Dude, I need it now."
"Americans don't know how to savor anything," Christophe teased, licking his lips like a satiated feline. "I could go for hours."
"He'll be asleep in minutes," he pointed out breathily, humping against Kyle harder in excitement as Christophe slid back over the bed and moved behind him. Allowing the strong hand on his hips to move him, Stan fell between Kyle's legs, pressing fully against his best friend, feeling their cocks hot against each other. And behind him Christophe was slicking his opening with spit and precum, one hand still on Stan's ass.
"You ready, love?" he asked, lining up to Stan's entrance. When the American nodded, Christophe looked over Stan's shoulder at Kyle, who was looking at him with sleepy eyes. Shallow thrusts gradually opened Stan enough that Christophe could slide in easily, seated in unbelievable tightness and warmth. He rested his forehead against the middle of Stan's back, taking a breath before he kissed a trembling shoulder. "Now I fuck you, Stan," he promised, drawing back with deceiving slowness before delivering a powerful thrust that forced Stan hard into Kyle. Both boys groaned, Stan throwing his head back and Kyle twisting deliciously on the bed, his slender hips thrusting upwards to meet Stan each time Christophe pounded them into each other.
"Stan," Kyle whimpered, so tired, but immersed in pleasure. "It feels good."
"Fucking good," Stan echoed, crying out when Christophe fed him another hard thrust. Below him Kyle was pushing back, his leaking erection slamming against Stan's cock. The heat between them was growing to insurmountable heights and Stan moved faster, impaling himself on Christophe and forcing himself down harder onto Kyle, crushing the Jew into the sheets.
The delicious sound of slapping flesh nearly overcame the sounds of pleasure pouring from their mouths. French cascading like a waterfall from Christophe's mouth, falling over Stan and Kyle's ears, putting them into a trance. Kyle was mewling with each thrust, having lifted his arms to scratch at Stan's chest.
"Yes," Stan gasped, "Fuck!'
Christophe slammed into Stan violently, hands gripping him roughly by the hips, yanking the boy back into his cock with each thrust. He snarled as he peaked, finally shouting in French as he came.
Stan had fallen so that his body was flush against Kyle. Still inside of him, Christophe moved their bodies, pushing Stan back and forth over Kyle, listening to the music of the boys' cries and moans.
"Now," Stan moaned, "Now." A spark of fire erupted up his body and he exploded all over Kyle's stomach. Streaks of cum even reached the boy's face. Falling to the side, Stan watched as Christophe descended on the boy, suddenly sucking Kyle's cock deep into his mouth.
The angles of his face grew sharper as he hollowed his cheeks, head bobbing, taking the Jew as far in as he could. Kyle was delirious at this point, writhing and moaning on the bed, fingers bone white while they gripped the sheets. Christophe could feel the boy getting close and deep-throated Kyle, swallowing hard, milking the orgasm that was breaching. The redhead shouted, thrusting down Christophe's throat as the Frenchman swallowed him.
Kyle stared at the ceiling as if through a fog. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. Stan and Christophe traded glances before moving off the bed. They watched as Kyle's eyes eventually closed and the boy drifted off.
"Why didn't you fuck him from the inside?" Christophe asked, tucking his dick back into his jeans.
Stan shrugged. "That would have taken it too far. This was already iffy."
"Well, I would be a stinking liar if I said I hadn't dreamt about this," he said devilishly.
"He has too."
Laying back on his own bed across the room, Stan crossed his arms behind his head and chuckled. "Kyle talks in his sleep."
Eyebrow piqued with interested, Christophe sidled up to the other boy. "Oh oh?"
Grinning, Stan nodded. "And I quote, 'Fuck yes Christophe. Oh, Stan!' Those exact words."
"Fuck, that could get me going again," he growled suggestively, hand sneaking towards Stan's crotch.
"Yeah, and then Gregory would kick your ass for being late again."
"Mon dieu," Christophe barked, "Why on earth do you bring up Mother Hen! That bitch needs to learn that I have places to be and people to fuck."
"Shh," Stan hushed him. "Kyle needs sleep right now. He's been up for, like, three nights."
"Ah," Christophe said, eyes twinkling, "I see Kyle has his own Mother Hen."
"Whatever, dude," Stan scoffed.
"All right then. I'll get back to the coop." He leaned in for another kiss, his hand lifting to gently guide Stan's lips to his own. It was silent in the moments that they kissed each other, despite the tumultuous passion that echoed between them. Withdrawing regretfully, Christophe stood and made for the door. "Au revior, mon amour," he whispered, and vanished.
Stan stared at the empty space for a moment before turning back to Kyle, who was fast asleep on his bed. Then he noticed something lying on the ground and went over to retrieve it.
"Fuck yeah," he said, "a Slinky!"
A/N: Still not sure where this thing came from... Leave a comment and let me know if you're as confused as I am! Or hey, if you got off on this weird-ass pairing, let me know that too. It'll make my night. : )